


Memories of Legends

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 13:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18966211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "There are so many stories about Saint Nicholas, the man who we all know would become Santa “North” Claus. One of them is this story: http://www.stnicholascenter.org/pages/three-impoverished-maidens/What I would like to see, is simply a Guardians take on how the story took place o3o"Jack asks North what he remembers about his life before being a Guardian, and he gets an unusual answer that includes the legend mentioned in the original prompt.





	Memories of Legends

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 10/30/2015.

“Can you tell me about before you were a Guardian?” Jack asked North. They sat on an enclosed balcony, looking out over the bright landscape of the Arctic day. High summer, and while Jack still had duties to attend to in the southern hemisphere, the land mass was considerably less than the northern, leaving him this time to pause, and relax, and, today, to finally tell North about what he had seen in his tooth box.  
  
North had clearly been intrigued, even more so when Jack explained that he wasn’t too upset by his mortal death, since by any useful measurement he was still very much alive. And so Jack had to ask about North’s past. If his origin hadn’t been usual for a Guardian, he wanted to know what was.  
  
North smiled and nodded at Jack’s question, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his belly. “This is not easiest question to answer,” he said. “Your story is interesting because there is only one. You can remember your whole life now, like one rope leading you back to your birth. For me, this is not true.”  
  
“You don’t have your memories?” Jack asked. “Are you older than Tooth, or did you have cavities, or…or what?”  
  
“Hah! I do not think I am older than Tooth—I think we are the same age, or close enough, but that is discussion for another time. No, it is not that I do not have memories, it is that I have many, many memories, and while they cannot all be true, they all feel very true to me. Example: if I remember being both a saint and a god, one of these memories must be false.”  
  
“So—wow, this is a weird question—were  _you_ , I mean, you as I know you now, were you ever human?”  
  
North chuckled. “Well! Probably not. I know there is much about me that is not like the stories of Santa Claus, but I do not know if the personality I have came directly from one man. And it is even just a guess that this original person was a man! My body is as human as a Guardian’s can be, but I would be quite rare, walking out in the world.”  
  
Jack leaned forward and rested his chin on his fists. “Okay…um…can you…isn’t there anything about your past you can tell me?”  
  
“I will tell you one thing I remember, and tell you how it is hard to say it is really a memory. This is the story: I am walking through the town and I hear of a man with three daughters that he needs to marry. But he has no money to provide for their dowry, and there is nothing to be done! The young women are very sad, very distressed. Well, I have inherited a great deal of money from my parents, so one night I walk by the poor man’s house and throw a bag of gold through the open window, where it lands in a sock that had been hanging over the hearth to dry. The first daughter marries, and all is well. The same thing happens for the second girl, and then the third. But when I throw the gold for the third girl, her father spots me, and wishes to thank me in some way, to celebrate what I have done. But I am embarrassed by this, and ask him not to reveal what I have done. But, eventually, as such things go, the word does spread, and that is why stockings are hung from the mantel at Christmastime.”  
  
“It’s hard to imagine you being so modest,” Jack said with a grin. “What were the girls’ names? What were they like? Do you think that was when you were chosen?”  
  
“That is just the thing, Jack. I don’t know their names, and I don’t know what they were like. Maybe it was part of some choosing, but when I remember throwing the gold into the window, I also remember my hands being quite brown. This is a legend of St. Nicholas, and I am not quite St. Nicholas. But I have this legend as a memory.” He laughed. “I have other memories, too, of being a bandit, entirely on my own, always on the move, always looking for a challenge to prove my worth—I have no family money or modesty in those memories!” His smile became thoughtful. “And, again, I am not sure if those memories are not simply part of some other legend.”  
  
Jack was silent for a long moment. “How do you know who you are, then?”  
  
“I know who I am because no matter who I was, and no matter what stories are told about me—no matter what stories are told about who I might have been—I am a Guardian, now. If I remember nothing else, I remember that my center is wonder. That is who I am. Now, it gives me this Workshop, and a long white beard, and a sleigh pulled by reindeer. In the future, I may have none of these things. But I know I will always be able to bring wonder and protect children.”  
  
Jack looked at North, smiling a little, a smile more contemplative than happy. “Do you think the same thing could happen to me? Gaining so many stories that I don’t know my real past?”  
  
“You should not let it worry you,” North said. “If that does happen to you, it means you will never be forgotten. And you will always have your center. You will always have the Guardians. Your memories of your time as a Guardian are your real past, too.”  
  
North smiled at Jack warmly, and Jack’s smile eased.  
  
“Well,” Jack said, looking away and laughing, “I hope I never remember  _The Santa Clause 3_  as something real, anyway.” 


End file.
